


Wench and Pirate

by handlewithkara



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Crossdressing, Dancing, F/M, Heavy Petting, Humor, Jealousy, Kinktober 2019, Office Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlewithkara/pseuds/handlewithkara
Summary: It's season 2 at the annual DEO Halloween Party.For the kinktober prompt:- Cross-dressing
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Mon-El
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Kinktober 2019





	Wench and Pirate

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and I don't have a beta reader :(

_No-Fun Police. No-Fun Police. Pshaw!_ Who was Mon-El to tell her that she didn’t know how to have fun?

Kara stared down her makeup chest like it was an enemy. She snatched the eyeliner and violet eyeshadow. Captain Jack would have nothing on her, she decided.

As the last step she attached the big plastic eyepatch that came with the outfit. “Arrrrr, matey!” she proclaimed and turned in front of the mirror. She had to admit, those thigh-high jackboots did look good on her. A fake plastic saber was hanging from a wide red belt. Jenny from HR had assured her that it wouldn’t be a problem to take it into the DEO. Her pants were soft, cheap leather, but thankfully not the clingly kind.

The star of the outfit was undoubtedly the long red overcoat, complete with extravagant large buttons.

Kara adjusted her large trident hat one last time.

_Time to start operation Halloween Fun._

*~*~*

Kara’s gaze swept over the festively decorated DEO. Looked like HR had gone all out this year. Green garlands hung over the monitors, while toy pumpkins lined the entrance. It seemed that Jenny had been unrelenting this year and indeed everybody was in costume. Even Gilbert from tech had put on a stethoscope. Kara spotted Alex chatting with Vasquez and gave her a thumbs up, even if she did think that Alex chosen outfit of a blood and guts covered zombie was a bit on the unsettling side, for this playful occasion.

Well, it was time to have fun now. Kara grabbed a drink and approached one of the larger groups. “Hi, what’s up?” she called out.

The figure in front of her turned around. “Hi, Supergirl.”

Kara blinked. “What, what are you wearing, Mon-El?”

He gripped the side of his leather skirt and ruffled it. “It’s called wench. Do you like it?”

Her mouth opened. And closed. And opened again.

“You, you look ridiculous.” And he did. He was wearing a brown skirt, with a long side slit, up to his thigh, topped with a white billowing blouse that left his shoulders free. The neckline seemed to think that covering his nipples was just a suggestion. The blouse was held in place only loosely by a soft black corset-style bodice, laced together at the front.

Except… that was it. He was wearing his DEO combat boots from training. No makeup. No jewelry. No wig. Clearly didn't bother to shave his legs.

Just Mon-El, looking as cheerful as possible.

In a dress.

In the dress of a busty barmaiden.

And he seemed to be completely oblivious to it.

“I thought that was the point of it? To have a good time and have a laugh.”

“Yes, but….”

“What’s this?” He pointed at her eyepatch. “Can I touch it?”

Her hand shot up to cover her eye. “What? No!”

Mon-El tilted his head. “Why are you so cranky?”

“What? I’m not cranky!”

He stared at her face that made her immediately want to cover up the crinkle forming on her forehead. _No, stay cool,_ she reminded herself. After all, underneath her fabulous pirate’s hat, no way he could see it anyway. “Look, Mon-El, I didn’t come here to argue. I came here to have fun.”

He smiled in relief and raised his glass. “Awe-and-some. Truce?”

Kara sighed and then clinked her juice glass against his. “Truce.” It tasted nice and fruity, she thought as she suckled on her frilly straw and surveyed the milling DEO agents together with Mon-El. This was normal. Normal Halloween party behavior. Even if the obscene way Mon-El’s naked shoulders were completely uncovered by his blouse. Well, at least he hadn’t tried to also stuff his bodice for more “realism”. She gulped down another mouthful of her cocktail, letting the sweet liquid slosh around on her tongue.

“So… care for a dance?”

Kara coughed, nearly spitting out her drink. Mon-El bumped his naked shoulder against her playfully.

“Yes, yes, say, yes.”

Kara mumbled something unintelligible, but let him take her hand and lead her to the middle of the room where a small designated area welcomed awkwardly swaying couples.

“We’ll look ridiculous,” she whispered as she put her hand on his shoulder.

“I thought that was the point here? Ridiculous is funny, right? Makes people laugh?” He raised their joined hands up and led her through a spiral turn underneath his arm. Kara looked around nervously.

“Shouldn’t we, shouldn’t I, like, do the leading?”

Mon-El blinked. “Why?”

“Nevermind.”

Kara harrumphed and gripped his hand tighter. It was most … bothersome to dance in such cramped surroundings. Dancing with him made her feel too tall, because like this, it was very hard not to look into his eyes by accident. And he did look ridiculous. Both of them did. And the worst of it that they almost looked like they had planned this. Is that what people would say after the party, that they had come in intentionally with matching outfits? The pirate and his saucy wench?

“People will think we are a couple,” she whispered.

“Why would they do that?” he asked, his voice full of curiosity. Kara hid her face against his shoulders.

“Just ‘cuz.”

He placed his hand over the small of her back and twirled them around surprisingly gracefully, always smiling and throwing our random greetings with effortless multi-tasking. “Hi Jack! Good to see you, Dan.”

Suddenly Kara desperately wished that she was actually drunk.

*~*~*

Somewhere in the middle he was whisked away from her, as Jackson just cut in and grabbed Mon-El for himself, leaving her standing around by herself. Kara found herself getting annoyed by Mon-El’s loud laughter, as he went from person to person.

_Whatever, he looked stupid anyway._

Kara suckled on her pink straw and made the rounds, praising the party organization and praising people for their costumes. The entire time she nervously kept half an eye on Mon-El. Surely he would end up doing something embarrassing as the night progressed. His boisterous laughter echoed across the room.

Her heart was beating nervously. Mon-El kept adjusting his sleeves that kept sliding down his shoulders, apparently unaware that that was where they were supposed to be. Kara had to fight the urge to slap his hand away to get him to stop. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Her jaw set, she stomped over to the group Mon-El was standing with, right in the middle of him raising his glass for another toast.

“Mon-El!” She pulled his hand over and sniffed his drink, to make sure it wasn’t something exotic he had snuck in from the alien bar. “You aren’t intentionally trying to get the humans drunk,” she admonished him in a hushed voice.

Mon-El grinned widely. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Dance. Now.” She dragged him to the dance floor and defiantly took position in front of him. He slipped into her offered embrace and linked his hand with hers, palm to palm. Immediately they feet started moving to the sound of the spooky waltz remix of Thriller blaring from loudspeakers.

It was hard to focus. Especially with Mon-El’s cleavage refusing to well, be a proper cleavage, considering his nipples kept cheekily peeking through the white ruffles.

“Why are you so tense?” he whispered.

“Well, I can’t exactly relax when I have to always keep an eye on you.” Kara was a bit annoyed at herself at how miffed she sounded. It did seem the thought gave Mon-El pause.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you to have a bad time.”

“What? No.” She was crinkling again. “Look, it’s my own fault that I shut my brain off.”

He looked at her full of curiosity. “That sounds kind of dangerous.”

Kara slapped his shoulder. “That’s a figure of speech and you know it.”

Mon-El grinned and spun her around one more time. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted. He twirled her around and she let him, gulping hard. Despite the cramped environment, he found a path and they spun, as fast as or even faster than the first time they had danced at Lena Luthor’s reception.

*~*~*

Fleeing the commotion of the party, they both collapsed on Mon-El’s bunk. Though dancing didn’t really put a dent into Kara’s alien stamina, she had to admit that the constant spinning had made her a bit dizzy and so she had let Mon-El grab her hand and drag her down to his dormitory, laughing and giggling the entire way down.

Here they could breathe properly and so she did, closing her eyes, focusing on just the sound of her own rushing blood.

“So,” Mon-El said, “the name of my outfit is wench. What are you exactly anyway?”

Kara stared at the ceiling. “It’s called a pirate. They, they were mostly thieves and murderers.” She frowned. “Except with boats?”

He turned his head and looked at her from the side. “Funny, would have expected you to show up as a shining knight or something.”

“Well,” she said sarcastically. “It appears that I can be fun and surprising after all.”

He stared at her. “No comment.” Mon-El let himself fall onto his back again.

“So…” he mused. “Can you fill me in on some details? What exactly does a wench do? People keep telling me to sit on their lap.”

Pretty ceiling. Perfectly pretty ceiling. Maybe a bit strong on the one-slab-of-one-color-concrete side, but still, perfectly nice and most importantly safe.

“They, they are like, servants. Actually, they are mostly like bartenders.”

Mon-El looked offended. “I’m a bartender and I don’t sit on people’s laps. Usually.”

“Well, maybe you should have researched your costume a bit more, before you picked it.”

“Yeah, maybe I should have.” His gaze wandered over to the calculator watch on his bed stand. He reached for it, stretching across her in the process.

“Away wench!” Kara grumbled and without thinking her hand impacted his side. Well, more specifically, his ass. She stared at him, mortified by her own action. Mon-El burst out into laughter. He let himself fall forward, onto her. Grabbing her wrists to pin her.

“So what now, you gonna thief and murder me, Mrs Pirate?” He laughed. Kara growled at him for his insolence, but that just made him laugh harder. Now he was most definitely wiggling to annoy her. She snatched her arm from his grasp and moved to smack his ass again but the rolled out of the way, sliding down between her legs.

Waggling his eyebrows coyly, Mon-El stroked the side of the plastic saber hanging at her side, tracing the edge with his thumb, down to the tip. He grinned. “Maybe I should check you for weapons, you know, just to protect my patrons.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I will have you know that I will not be searched! Wench!” She bucked upwards, pulled him up on his shoulders and with an easy shove flipped him down on his back. Landing on top of him. Face to face. Face to face was dangerous. Kara gulped. Let’s not do face to face.

They wrestled. Kara spun him, putting him on his belly this time, caught his wrists, pinning them to the mattress. Her gaze got caught on the way his shoulder blades unrestrictedly visible to the naked eye shifted, framed and accentuated by the neckline of his blouse. She threw herself all over his back. It was mostly an effort to restrain him. Maybe a bit of dry humping was involved. Her hands found his chest and pawed over it. Ruffles, so many ruffles. Maybe at this point, she was very literally breathing down his neck. A very sexy, graceful neck. Woefully insufficiently covered by his frilly blouse.

“So, is this the thieving or the murdering part?” Mon-El joked, still wriggling against her hold.

Kara barely lifted her head. Her lashes blinked, sluggishly, as if in slow motion. “Uhm, a bit of both?”

Her head sank down to its previous position against his shoulderblade. She wasn’t kissing the back of his neck. This… this was sniffing at the most. Maybe a bit of pawing. But that was at his arms, so essentially that didn’t count. It was just those stupid silken ruffles. Over and over her fingers caressed, exploring the border between the frilly silk and his sweat-slicked skin.

Mon-El stilled and craned his neck, looking back at her. The expression in his eyes surprisingly warm and understanding. “Hello, Sir pirate.”

Kara froze. Long enough for him to turn around underneath her and push her back onto the mattress. He loomed over her. Her whole body tightened, like a gasp, only her knees fell open for him as he took her in with a deep, intense gaze. Unhurriedly, without taking his eyes off of her, Mon-El moved down her body, till he was on the floor between her legs.

He grabbed her thighs and pulled, making her sink deeper into the pile of strewn around blankets. “Please don’t thief me,” he said jokingly.

 _I really, really should be drunk for this,_ Kara thought. She blew a strand of hair out of her mouth. Her hand reached forward and her index finger caressed his cheek.

“You, you are a bad wench,” she coughed.

“Yeah,” he grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips. “You should teach me how to be a good one then. You are my mentor after all, aren’t you?” His kisses trailed up her arm, as high as he could peel back the sleeve of her coat and then further.

“Uh-oh.” It really was fucking distracting when she didn’t know whether he was joking or not. Eyes. Pretty eyes. Nice mouth too. And that cute nose. Also, basically face to face. Way too much face to face. Also close, much too close.

He leaned in and kissed the side of her throat. “Would a wench do that?”

Kara blinked in confusion and looked away. His upper body was covering her, his bodice rubbing over the large gold buttons of her overcoat. Ceiling. Pretty ceiling. “Yeah, probably,” she admitted.

His lips wandered an inch lower. Then another one, finding her collarbone. “And this?” A sexy shudder traveled through her body.

“Most… most definitely.”

“So it means I’m getting better, yes?”

_Yeah. You most definitely are._

Mon-El shifted back onto his haunches. He caressed her sides and Kara decided that her outfit was decidedly not flimsy enough. His hands against her body felt like they were scorching even through the thick clothing. Traveling … traveling lower.

“You’ve been on a long journey.” His right hand hovered right over the zipper of her pants. She could hear the light >clink< of her fly as he toyed with it. “Let me make you feel good, my saucy pirate.”

Kara ran her tongue over her lips. _Ceiling. Pretty, pretty ceiling._ “Pirates, pirates aren’t saucy. Wenches are saucy,” she corrected him without thinking.

He lowered his head and laughed throatily down there, next to her belly button. “Why is that so, again?”

“Uhm, I don’t know?” _Patriarchy. It’s probably the patriarchy._ Her hand slid down his back. It was so easy to slip it into his wide blouse. She mewled unhappily when her fingers bumped against the rim of his bodice. She had to wiggle them to get them in between. Unfair. How was she supposed to cope with that when she was busy plotting about how best to lick that pearl of sweat from the hollow of his throat. She raked her fingers through his hair and placed a wet and sloppy kiss on his forehead.

“I, I want you up here,” she gasped. “Up here with me.”

Mon-El raised an eyebrow in surprise and complied. He caught her face between his hands and leaned in close. Kara’s breath got caught in her throat as his mouth closed the distance between them. A moan escaped her when at the last second he swayed to the side, catching her cheek in a nibble. Her fingers dug into the cloth of his skirt, right above the thigh.

What was he doing, what was he doing to her? She tugged at the fabric in her hand and rubbed her cheek, her face, her nose, her forehead against his cheek, her lips opening and closing, gasping for air or sound or something she wasn’t sure of. Timidly, her hand traveled down his leg, following the seam of his dress. Her heart beat furiously as she reached as far as her arm would go, only to turn and start the journey back. Her hand glided into the wench skirt’s long slit, up his thigh, until... Kara’s eyes widened. “You, you weren’t wearing any panties. The entire time?”

Mon-El blinked in confusion. “Of course not.”

She gripped his hair and sealed her mouth this his, deftly kissing him to punish him for such a stupid response, bothering his lower lip with her teeth.

 _Heavy petting._ That was the right answer. Heavy petting was evidently appropriate for their current situation. After all, that’s something that happened. Drunken co-workers hooking up at the Christmas party. Okay so maybe it wasn’t Christmas, but it was Halloween and that was close enough. Oh Rao, his lips were so hot and his tongue tasted so good. Except…

“Stop!” Kara jolted up.

Mon-El’s hands stalled. He looked up in surprise. “What?”

“I… I’m not drunk enough.”

His brow furrowed. “I, I don’t understand.”

She scrambled up. “I, I shouldn’t do this,” she explained. “I’m your mentor. I should be teaching you, protecting you. Not take advantage of you.”

Mon-El looked positively crestfallen.

“Do you understand that?”

“I guess I do,” he said unhappily. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Kara blushed when she spotted the hickey she had left on his neck. Mon-El scrambled to his feet, his stance unsure. “So, see you tomorrow then, partner?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Mmm.”

“Sorry about that. I, I got carried away. I shouldn’t have.”

Kara swallowed hard, as it occurred to her that after she left he might return to the party and run into some DEO agents considerably less scrupulous than her. She didn’t even know why she cared. After all, not long ago she had called him a hussy herself. He probably slept with lots of people at the alien bar. What exactly was she supposed to say? _Please Mon-El, don’t have sex at the workplace, at least not at the DEO. At least not where I can see it. Or hear it. Or smell it._ Except there were probably several agents drunkenly sucking face upstairs and sneaking off to various secret storerooms, so who was she to tell Mon-El he wasn’t allowed to?

Kara gulped. Wait, what if the alien bar had their own Halloween party? Would he be wearing this outfit there too in clear view of all the hypothetically sultry patrons? _Oh Rao, why can’t I be more drunk for this._ Would she ever be one of those people who had reckless co-worker hookups at an office party to regret and share stories of if she never got drunk?

“I really should leave,” she murmured, but her feet stayed rooted to the floor. Mon-El’s hands were on her shoulder. He was swaying lightly, except she hadn’t seen him drink anything stronger. Nor had she tasted it for that matter.

His mouth was close. So close. _Kiss me like one of those French girls._ No wait, that wasn’t the right quote. Mon-El’s hand twitched. Maybe, maybe if she just turned her back to him, she could stop staring at his lips. It felt like pushing a mountain out of the way with her shoulder, but she managed to turn around.

 _Crap._ Now she was staring at the wall. Right at the opposite where the door was. His hands, his hands were still on her, resting no her shoulders, just having adjusted to her movement instead of being dislodged by it.

“Guess, guess I better get going, then,” she said, biting her lip. _Partner. Mentee. Daxamite. Mon-El._ Why did the air suddenly feel so dense? She could sense him, behind her. Kara’s heart thundered powerfully, so hard she worried he might be able to hear it.

His fingers caressed her shoulder, unwilling to let her go. “Can, can I hug you?” He sounded strangely out of breath.

She fell back. He slung his arms around her from behind. “Yeah,” she gasped. “Yes, hugs, hugs are good.” Except his lips were at the back of her neck, at the spot right behind her ear and he was pressed up flush against her and when she rocked against him then… then …

“Mon-El?” A male voice was heard from the direction of the stairs. Kara squeaked and vaulted under Mon-El’s bunk, just in time as the door to the dormitory swung open. The bunk creaked as Mon-El dropped onto it, spreading out his skirt to hide her from view even more.

“Where have you been, bud? We’ve been missing you upstairs.” Jackson. That was Agent Jackson, one of the men from strike team beta. What was he doing here? Were he and Mon-El friends? Kara resisted the urge to punch Mon-El’s calve.

Up on the bunk, Mon-El cleared his throat. “Yeah, uhm, I’ll be right back.”

“So this is where you sleep?” The DEO agent plopped down on Mon-El’s bunk, right next to the Daxamite. His boots were huge. Kara peered at them suspiciously.

“Yep, that’s me,” Mon-El replied.

“Nice, nice.” Kara’s eyes widened. Right in front of her, Jackson’s black pants-clad leg bumped suggestively against Mon-El and the man scooted closer. He probably had his hand on Mon-El’s knee by now. “You could give me a private tour.”

Kara’s mouth gaped open. What? She couldn’t believe that Jackson was hitting on Mon-El. Kara gnawed nervously on her lower lip. Maybe her preceding actions had left Mon-El looking all disheveled. But still? How, how could he? She stared at the man’s pants leg with quiet seething rage and contemplated whether she could pass it off as a workplace accident if she ‘accidentally’ set Jackson’s boots on fire.

“That won’t be necessary,” Mon-El said dryly, the bunk creaking as he sat up.

“Really,” Jackson asked, sounding incredulous.

“Yes, really.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Jackson paused for a second. “You know, we could invite Jill and Allison. Have our own private party down here.”

“I’m sure.”

The DEO agent rose.

“Pity.”

“Thank you for giving me the message.”

Mon-El led Jackson out the room and closed the door behind him. “You can come out now,” he called.

Kara took a deep breath and scooted out underneath Mon-El’s bed. She ran her hand nervously down her coat, picking away at invisible dust bunnies.

“So that,” she mumbled, unable to meet Mon-El’s eyes.

“Yep.”

She coughed. “Looks, looks like you are quite wanted upstairs.”

“What about you? Are you going back to the party as well?”

Kara blinked. Somehow she doubted that the events upstairs had much to offer to her compared to what had just happened. The thought of going back there hadn’t even occurred to her. _Mentor,_ she reminded herself. _Be the grown-up._

“No, I, I think I’ll be heading home. Gotta be out fresh and early. Somebody has to protect the city after all.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll hit the hay early myself as well.”

“Good.”

Kara stared at Mon-El’s face. Technically she had kissed him only a little. And she had been mad the entire time. Mad at him. Which was almost the same at it not counting at all.

“I should leave now.”

“Yeah.”

“I, I think I need to get some cold air.”

“Mmm.” He, he did look positively debauched, his hair ruffled, his mouth swollen from their kisses, his outfit just barely hanging on to his body. She had to imagine she looked much the same.

“I have to go.”

He rubbed his hand over his face as if to shake himself out of a dream. “Yeah.”

 _Does it hurt?_ Kara wondered. _Down there, where I’m not touching?_ It probably had to. At least walking away from him hurt as well.

She stopped halfway out the door, her hand on the doorframe. “Mon-El? That outfit?”

“Yeah?”

“You might want to keep it. Just in case.”


End file.
